Hunting Pigs
by Chacha Loca
Summary: A look into the mind of Jack Merridew.  A very...unstable mind.  Set before 'the beast' arrives at the island.  Violence and blood.


Jack waited, breathing silently in the jungle foliage. Up ahead, the quick, rhythmic sound of hoof beats drummed across the ground. He was impatient, but as any good hunter he knew that waiting would pay off in the end. A little while longer and he would have his prize.

Barely a minute later, the sound grew closer, and he could hear the softest of squeals from his prey. Mouth nearly watering, he strained his eyes to catch any glimpse of pig flesh. A few moments later, and a predatory smile slid slowly across his face. He took the quietest of breaths, before leaping from his perch in a tree, stabbing his spear downwards, straight into the unlucky pig that had crossed his path.

_Kill the pig! Cut her throat! Spill her blood!_

It thrashed about in pain, squeals at a piercing volume as he continuously stabbed it over and over, before he quickly slit its throat, allowing the blood to pour over his hands and newly unsheathed hunting knife. Grinning down at the lifeless body of a once grand sow, Jack did not notice as he smeared pig's blood across his face when wiping away the sweat of the day's hunt. Even if he had, it would have made no difference, as the red merely blended with the other colors that painted his face. Blue eyes bright, he surveyed the damage done to the pig, before fixing his eyes on his knife. The dark crimson blood shone off the metal pleasantly, and Jack could not help himself as he took the tiniest lick from the blade. The taste was just as pleasant, and he amused himself for some time licking the blade clean.

To his right, the cries of the other hunters rang out and he answered their call with his own. Standing over his kill triumphantly, he did not have to wait long as two boys came bursting through a veil of creepers.

"What took you so long?" Jack asked nonchalantly.

Roger smirked. "Just having some fun with the littluns."

Jack was well aware of the kind of "fun" Roger enjoyed, so did not inquire for further details, but instead motioned to the pig. "Let's get this back to camp. I'm hungry."

"Boy Jack, you really did a number on it didn't ya?" said Robert in awe.

Eyes glinting and face flushing with pride, Jack recounted the tale of his hunt to the other two as they emptied the guts of the pig onto the ground, before carrying it back to camp. Well, Roger and Robert carried, as Jack was too caught up in his tale to bother lending a hand. By the time they reached camp, Jack was in the middle of describing his leap from a tree branch ten, no, _twenty_ feet high onto the pig. Spotting Piggy nearby, Jack motioned to Roger and Robert to stay where they were as he silently snuck up on the boy, who was too busy cleaning his glasses to notice. With a cry, he pounced upon the surprised boy, jabbing his spear down in motions mimicking those he had used earlier on the pig. The spear only nicked the round boy's skin, but his squealing, frightened cries rang about the beach, along with the laughter of the other boys.

_Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_

With a shove, Jack pushed himself off of Piggy, who clutched the arm where the small cut had been made, whimpering and wheezing. "You shouldn'a done that," accused Piggy after catching his breath. "You coulda hurt me, or my asthma coulda started up and killed me."

"Sucks to your ass-mar!" Jack yelled back, causing even more laughter to erupt from the crowd of surrounding boys.

A pleased smile was on Jack's lips as he surveyed the crowd of boys, a pulse of something like triumph beating beneath his skin. _He_ was the one who caused such entertainment for the others. _He_ was the one who provided meat for the tribe. _He_ was the one who kept them all going.

"What's going on here?"

_He_ was not chief.

The crowd of boys parted to reveal Ralph, brow creased in a line of frustration and a frown of anger on his lips.

"Ralph!" Piggy squealed in relief, before sniffling pathetically. "Jack attacked me! He just came out of nowhere and tried to kill me!"

A new pulse slowly started to pound in Jack's veins; not of triumph, but of hatred so deep it surprised him a little.

"Is that true Jack?" Ralph asked quietly a few moments later, turning uncertain eyes to his.

He snorted. "Of course it's not! I wasn't trying to kill no one. If I had," Jack trailed off, turning a slightly unhinged gaze onto Piggy, who shivered at the intensity, "He'd already be dead."

_Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Bash him in!_

"Boo!" Jack suddenly yelled at Piggy, jerking his spear as though he meant to stab him. As expected, Piggy jumped back with a high-pitched scream of fright, the crowd laughing at the spectacle.

"That's enough Jack!" said Ralph angrily. "Leave Piggy alone!"

"Stop being such a spoilsport Ralph," Jack complained. "It's all just good fun."

"Well, I don't think it's fun and I don't think Piggy does either."

"I don't," Piggy muttered pitifully, turning adoring eyes to Ralph.

The hatred beat just a little bit harder in Jack's veins.

"Fine then," Jack said nastily, before turning towards the jungle. "I'm going for a walk. Find me when the food's ready."

"Jack," he heard Ralph whisper tiredly, but he ignored the other boy and continued on his way.

Jack made sure he was deep enough in the jungle before unsheathing his knife. With a roar of anger, he slashed at the surrounding plants, burying his knife in the wood of a tree over and over until the cut was deep and his hands were red with soreness. It wasn't enough, however, and he yelled again as he sliced at the creepers.

Many minutes later, Jack finally slumped to the ground tiredly, not bothering to sheathe his hunting knife as he huffed for air. Turning to lay on his back, Jack stared up into the leaves of the trees, mind wandering.

He and Ralph weren't friends anymore, he realized with a start. They just didn't relate. Ralph didn't understand the thrill and power one experienced while hunting a pig and Jack didn't care about building huts or keeping the stupid ol' fire going. With a pang in his heart, Jack remembered the first day, standing with Ralph and Simon as they viewed their island together. In that moment, he had felt a bond between all three of them, but especially Ralph. Simon was so quiet; he felt more like a loyal subject who would back them up. With Ralph he had felt as though they were two conquerors, observing their newly claimed land with prideful smiles and hearty laughs.

But Ralph _hadn't_ laughed earlier. He had frowned and snapped and sided with _Fatty_. Thinking of the chubby boy reminded Jack of his thrumming hatred, which still beat strongly despite his earlier aggressions.

It was because of Piggy that Ralph wasn't his friend anymore. Piggy, who whined and complained about his "ass-mar". Piggy, who neither hunted nor built huts. Piggy, who spouted vile words into Ralph's brain, about fire and rescue and other such nonsense. Piggy, who was Ralph's friend while Jack was not.

The hatred beat on.

_Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Snap his limbs!_

In the distance, the familiar patter of hoof beats sounded across the jungle floor. With ingrained instincts, Jack leapt up while grabbing his knife, cursing the fact that he had left his spear in the camp. He quickly hid in some close by bushes, quieting his breath. Soon, a pig trotted lazily where Jack had previously been resting. It was a male, very fat, but somewhat small in size. Jack got the impression that it didn't see very well as it squinted at its surroundings with small, beady eyes.

At that moment, everything slipped away from Jack. His thoughts of Ralph and Piggy, the fact that the others were waiting for him (probably worried), even the fact that they had a large enough supply of meat with his big kill from earlier. His entire mind was centered on the pig standing merely feet away and the thrumming rhythm in his veins.

_Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Bash him in!_

Jack shot from the bushes, knife swinging down towards the pig. It missed by an inch, and then the pig was running away through the trees with Jack hot on its heels.

Heartbeat racing, Jack kept his prey within sight. While its original burst of speed had worried him, it was quickly beginning to slow down. Jack could hear its squeals, sounding shortened as though it couldn't take air in quickly enough to make the noise. A plan starting to form in his mind, Jack veered off to the right, anticipating that the pig would continue to run straight forward. Now hidden slightly by trees, Jack hoped the pig couldn't see well like he had earlier assumed. He put on a quick burst of speed to bring him ahead of the pig, then leapt back to the left, placing himself directly in the path of the pig.

Not giving it time to react, Jack launched himself forward with his knife, sinking it deep into the pig's neck. The knife was sharp enough that it sank all the way through and out the other side, and Jack managed to flip the pig enough to where it was pinned to the ground by the knife through its neck. It squealed and thrashed, making the wound worse and causing more blood to seep out.

Growling, Jack jerked the knife around, knowing that it would cause more pain. The pig looked up at him, eyes blind with fright and pain as its squeals grew softer and softer. Jack saw it huff for breath, choking on its own blood, and imagined it was saying _"But my ass-mar!"_

With a twist of the knife, the pig was dead.

* * *

Jack emerged from the trees, dead pig slung over one knobby shoulder. He smiled as some of his hunters greeted him, relief evident in their eyes and smiles. He walked over where the others were already feasting on his earlier catch and slung the pig down to begin cooking it. Ralph looked up at him with a frown of irritation. 

"Why'd you hunt again? We already have meat."

Jack shrugged, watching as the new pig was cooked by some of the other boys. "It was just sitting there and I figured it wouldn't hurt to have more to eat."

The surrounding boys nodded with his statement. They were sick of fruit.

Sighing, Ralph shook his head in surrender and returned to his food.

After the pig had been cooked and the others had gotten their share, Jack took a bite of his meat while watching Piggy dribble grease down himself and couldn't help but think that it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

* * *

A/N:

It is my firm belief that one of the main reasons Jack hates Piggy so much is the fact he feels Piggy "stole" Ralph's friendship from him. He feels that if it wasn't for Piggy and his adult-like sense of responsibility, Ralph wouldn't have worried about the fire and would have hunted and had "fun" with the rest of them. Of course, Jack disliked Piggy at first merely because he felt he was "superior" to him (because Piggy was overweight and asthmatic), but his jealousy over Ralph and Piggy's friendship contributed to his hatred a great deal. I guess it also didn't help that Jack turned out a bit loony.

Don't get me wrong, Jack _was _extremely jealous that Ralph got to be chief. But he still considered him a friend, and it was only when Ralph's rules and criticism became too much to bear that he snapped and left to start his own tribe.

Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism would be most appreciated.


End file.
